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- What's a Commie Ever Done to Black People?: A Korean War Memoir of Fighting in the U.S. Army's Last All Negro Unit by Curtis Morros
What's a Commie Ever Done to Black People?: A Korean War Memoir of Fighting in the U.S. Army's Last All Negro Unit by Curtis Morros
Excerpt:
"Reminiscing :The Han River; crossing march 7/8, 1951:
March 7, 1951 (twenty days before my 18th birthday), my battalion (the 2nd) boarded two- and-a-half-ton trucks to be transported to within a quarter of a mile of the Han River and our objective. There were thirty of us in the canvas-covered truck I rode in. Of course, that had to be multiplied time the number of trucks it would take to convey a regiment of soldiers. An individual soldier has a very limited view usually, but I imagine the truck convoy was spread out for miles.
In the truck in which I rode, there was very little talking. Some of the men tried to get a little shut-eye, which was hard to do with the truck hitting potholes every now and then, plus the many starts and stops. Then there would be times we'd travel for miles without stopping. There were wooded areas where branches from trees lining the narrow road would now and then strike the canvas side of the truck, sounding like sniper shots. No matter how many times this happened, each time sounded like the real one, and we instinctively ducked our heads. Sometimes it happened in such rapid succession that we'd think it was machine-gun fire and be tempted to jump from the moving truck. Every hour the trucks would pull over to the side of the road to give all a ten-minute break, during which time we could take care of our body needs or just have a smoke. I think there were two breaks before we reached our destination.
...
Although the top half of the mountain was covered by morning mists, I could see many flashes that appeared a split second before the exploding sounds reached our ears. I refocused my attention on three chaplains who were making their way to each platoon. They were offering us the chance to pray with them, or they with us. I remember thinking that there was nothing they could do for me now. Only God could help me, and I didn't need their help to talk to Him. I again refocused my attention on the river and the mountain we were to fight our way up. Momentarily the morning mist lifted, enabling three F-86 Sabre Jets to come in and make a few strafing runs with rockets and napalm bombs, then raking the mountain with machine-gun fire. I wondered how anyone could survive such bombardment, but I know, in spite of the intense annihilation taking place before my very eyes, that many of the Chinese soldiers would be there waiting for us.
Then new sounds joined the many others, the sounds of small-arms fire, including.30 caliber machine-gun, bazookas, and light mortars. But above all could be distinguished the sounds of screaming warriors as they charged forward from the amphibious landing crafts they had used to cross the Han River. Then I heard the command I had dreaded."